Barcelona—First Day of Full Immersion

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Written By Jake Whitman

I knew this was coming. I chose this. But standing outside SpeakeasyBCN, staring at the doors, I suddenly wanted to be anywhere else. 

This felt different from paddling out into a heavy wave. That fear? It’s physical. Your body knows what to do, even if your brain is screaming. But this? This was different. This was walking into something I knew I would fail at. 

I took a breath. Stepped inside. 

Immediate Regret 

It hit me within ten seconds. 

The receptionist greeted me in rapid Spanish. Not slow for the foreigner Spanish. Real Spanish. Native Spanish. I caught maybe three words. 

“Uh… sí?” I offered, hoping context would save me. 

She smiled—politely, but definitely amused—then switched to English. “First day?” 

God help me. 

She gave me my class info, a map of the school, and a look that I’m pretty sure meant ‘good luck.’ 

Thrown to the Sharks 

The classroom was already full when I walked in. Small group, maybe ten people. Mix of nationalities—some Europeans, a few Americans, a couple of students from Asia. 

The teacher—all energy, no English allowed—started immediately. No easing in. No introductions in English. Straight into Spanish. 

My brain short-circuited in real time. 

I caught bits and pieces. Verbs, something about past tense, maybe a question? Then—oh no—she called on me. 

“Jake, ¿qué hiciste ayer?” 

What did I do yesterday? I know this. I know this. I KNOW this. 

Nothing. Blank. 

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Stared at her like a deer in headlights. 

The class waited. I heard my own heartbeat. Someone coughed. 

“I, uh…” I started in English, immediately regretting it. “Yo…” I threw out a verb. Probably the wrong one. A complete mess. 

The teacher nodded patiently, rephrased my answer, moved on. I sat there, drowning in embarrassment, my face hot. 

This is what I signed up for. 

First Small Win 

Lunch break. I needed air. 

I wandered into a small café down the street, still mentally recovering. Ordered a coffee in stiff, broken Spanish. The barista nodded, but I could tell—she understood me, but just barely. 

Then she asked something. Fast. Too fast. 

I stared. She stared. 

“Más despacio, por favor?” I managed. 

She slowed down. I caught it this time. Responded. 

And she nodded. No amused smile. No switching to English. Just normal conversation. 

I walked out with my coffee feeling like I just caught my first clean wave in weeks. 

Same Struggle, Different Ocean 

I’ve been here before. Just not in a classroom. 

First time in Mundaka? I got smoked. But I kept paddling out. First time I tried to hold a conversation in Spanish? I froze. But I tried again. 

Surfing, Spanish—it’s the same damn thing. You fail a thousand times before anything clicks. 

I know this is going to suck for a while. I’m going to walk out of classes mentally wrecked. I’m going to feel stupid, slow, out of place. 

But I also know what happens when you keep showing up. 

Takeaways from Day One 

  1. Your brain will fight you. Ignore it. Keep going. 
  1. Full immersion means full exhaustion. Accept it. 
  1. Embarrassment is just part of the process. 
  1. Small wins matter. One decent sentence today = one less struggle tomorrow. 
  1. This is just like surfing. Wipeouts now. Clean rides later. 

Tomorrow? Back at it. 

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